


Daedric Lore

by Fallowsthorn



Series: Book of Sanguine [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Consentacles, Deepthroating, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other, Spitroasting, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, mildly dubious consentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 15:57:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11256195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallowsthorn/pseuds/Fallowsthorn
Summary: Sanguine is bored. Hermaeus Mora is unlucky enough to have to deal with this.





	Daedric Lore

**Author's Note:**

> The consent warnings are mostly there just in case. I intended for everyone to be 100% willing but there's a lot that's left implied.
> 
> On a different note, Daedric gender is an enormous mess and I just kinda picked a way to handle it and stuck with that. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Sanguine was bored. Bored bored bored. And worse, he was both incredibly bored and incredibly lazy, a combination which meant he wanted to sit around and whine about how bored he was rather than get up and find something to do.

Luckily for Sanguine, he was a Daedric Prince, which meant that he didn't have to get up to find something to do. Sometimes things and people to do made themselves known without any intervention on his part.

Like now, for instance.

Sanguine smiled as he felt the faint pull of a summoning. Not his own summoning; the pull would have been much stronger, possibly irresistible. This was a ritual calling one of Sanguine's brethren.

Time to see if said Prince wanted to play.

The clearing that Sanguine found himself in was pleasantly warm, the yellow of autumn beginning to seep into the leaves on the surrounding trees. He glanced down at himself, having picked a mortal form more or less at random, and found that she was a Bosmer female, wearing a somewhat truncated version of a priestess's robes. Sanguine smirked. On the whole, followers of other Daedra tended to be on the virginal side; devoting one's self to shadow, entropy, etc., didn't leave much more for lovers or one-night-stands. This was going to be fun.

Walking forward to lean against the open archway of the small temple, Sanguine found that she'd stumbled on a shrine to Hermaeus Mora, Prince of Knowledge and Things Ineffable. At least, according to the chanting nutjob in front of the altar, which was less a archetypical table with candles and designs and more a metallic representation of Hermaeus as a writhing mass of incoherent tentacles. The whole affair seemed a little small and pitiful, when the dark hooded robes and the "we are a secret order" atmosphere clashed with the bright, cheery day outside and the sheer amount of power that they lacked. Someone had covered the windows of the repurposed stone structure with black cloth, which was... sort of an adorable effort, to be honest.

Sanguine pitched her voice low and husky and made sure that when she spoke, her words dripped and ached of sex. "Hello there," she said, ignoring the way several of the worshippers jumped violently in surprise. "Oh, I just love it when I go out for a walk and I come across all these lovely... playthings." Her gaze darted around the room predatorily, and let a fraction of her power flood the area, to tingle on the edge of feeling for those with a sensitivity to magicka.

The leader seemed to recover his wits, what little of them he had, and raised a hand at Sanguine. She had to give him points for effort: he only sounded a little unsure of himself. "Begone, ye foul disruptor," he proclaimed, hand beginning to glow a radiant purple-black. "You, who dares to interrupt our ritual, seeking to profane it so that we would not, could not draw from the Well of Knowledge itself! You, undoubtedly working for another of...."

Sanguine tuned him out, and started to study the others in the room. There were eight of them - six now that two on the edges had bolted. The leader and the two nearest him seemed older, and it was likely that they'd recruited the other three into their little cult. Of those three, one was too young to have any interest in what was about to happen; Sanguine took pity on him and sent a little burst of fear his way. Already panicked and confused, he dropped the container he was holding and dashed out of the building.

The leader, caught up in his magickal working, either didn't notice, didn't care, or couldn't disrupt what he was doing without losing control, and kept going. "...and thus shall ye be banished forevermore and hence from the Realm of Nirn, by my powers of magicka! Begone!"

He flung the ball of Conjuration at Sanguine, who just stood in its path and absorbed it easily, humming a little at the small influx of energy. She saw the look on the leader's face when she was done and chuckled, walking up to him as slowly and obscenely as possible. "Oh, honey," she said, half-sincere and half wanting to just burst out laughing and be done with it, "you have no clue, do you? Nirn isn't even a realm. It's a plane. Also, you sound like a villain in a hack novel. Or possibly the hero. Either way, it's silly and you would have had the same effect in about a tenth of the time by just casting the damn spell. But really, the most important part of this whole problem...." Sanguine stepped forward, so that she was closer to the leader than he probably was comfortable with. "...the biggest thing, really the _greatest_ part of this that you just missed...." Another step, and she was directly in front of him, looking up into his eyes. Sanguine whispered the next words, relishing in the sudden alarm she saw. "...is that _I'm not working for anyone."_

Sanguine pulled the leader into a kiss, and poured the magnitude of her power and influence into it, let the leader of this little insignificant cult feel for a fraction of a moment what it was to be Daedric, and truly powerful.

Then she pulled back, and caught him neatly as he fainted.

"And besides," she told his unconscious body, lowering it to the floor some ways to the side, "I'm not even here for you. That was a total waste of time."

Sanguine looked up at the rest of the room, eyebrows raised. "Anyone else want to take a shot?"

As one, they shook their heads.

"Good. I don't care if you stay, but shut up and don't try to stop me."

She didn't wait to see if they complied, but turned around to face the altar, rapping on the metal sharply. "Hey. Hermaeus. Wake up, I want to play."

Nothing happened. Sanguine sighed. "Well, fine then. I guess if you want something done right, you just have to resort to extortion. Play with me or I'll play with your little would-be worshippers here. Everyone loves to be lazy and content."

An ominous rumbling began, deep beneath the structure and almost below the mortal range of feeling and hearing. Almost, but not quite. The cultists traded worried looks, but out of fascination or some other motivation, they all stayed put, attention locked on Sanguine.

The rumble quieted, and nothing else happened. Sanguine gave the altar, and then the cultists, an unimpressed look. “Is that it?” she said, ostensibly to the woman nearest her, who seemed to be the most collected of the bunch. At the very least, she blinked once and asked, “You’re Sanguine, aren’t you?”

Sanguine gave a little bow, just shallow enough to be mocking. “The one and only.” The woman, an older Breton with the air of authority about her, cocked her head to the side. Out of all of them, she was the one Sanguine would have pegged for the leader, and the most likely to truly follow Hermaeus. The effect was only strengthened when the woman said, “Would you mind if I ask you a few - !”

Suddenly the altar, which before had been rather small and unassuming, became immense. It was not that the metal statue actually changed dimensions, or in any way looked different than it had thirty seconds ago. The edges of it simply became undefined, extending beyond the mortals' sight.

The tentacles on the altar pulsed and began to move, surging as power was imbued in them. Sanguine laughed, delighted, as the cultists gasped in shock. The smarter woman darted to a bag resting against the wall and pulled out several sheets of parchment and a stick of charcoal, then set herself to watching avidly.

"Find your own followers." Hermaeus's voice rumbled out from the stone around them.

Sanguine smirked. "I just did," she said, waving behind her. "Here's the deal, and I can't imagine why you wouldn’t take it. You find me something interesting to do, like yourself, and I’ll be kept occupied. You don’t, and I... well, I’ll just have a lot of extra time on my hands, won’t I?”

There was a beat of silence, and then the pitifully darkened windows and open doorway slammed into blackness. The room was still lit by a sourceless cold light, enough to see the intricate designs and swirls on the floor rise sleekly up into tentacles, causing the three cultists still aware and present to step hurriedly out of the way.

The tentacles rushed at Sanguine, who lifted her arms in gleeful delight and let them strip her of clothing, letting her hips sway into their grip. When she was naked, she stepped forward and brought one knee up to slide into the mass on the altar. The tentacles curled between her thighs and she laughed.

And then they stopped moving, and simply held her immobile, and Sanguine pouted in a random direction.

“Come now,” Hermaeus began, intending it as an entreaty.

“I’m not that good,” Sanguine snarked back.

Hermaeus ignored her. “You can’t believe I would simply do as you ask under so pitiful a threat as that, do you?”

“I dunno, Hermy, you were always kind of a pushover.”

The tentacles’ grip tightened, to where the pressure would have crushed bone, had Sanguine been mortal. “Make it worth my while.”

“Or?”

“Or I will give them a lesson in Bosmer internal anatomy.”

“I’d get off on that too.”

“Much less easily.”

“Point.” Sanguine thought. “Do you even have sex? _Can_ you even have sex?”

There was a short pause. “Yes,” Hermaeus said.

Sanguine laughed. “You just fixed it, didn’t you,” she accused.

“No,” he said, placidly and completely unbelievably. The tentacles relaxed a bit, and the smaller ones on the altar began exploring her thighs and groin. They weren’t wet or suckered, but they felt slightly tacky against Sanguine’s skin.

“Ever heard of lube?” she asked.

In reply, the tentacles curled under the join of her legs, taking some of her weight off her knee and foot, and manhandling her. She went with it, curious, until she’d been turned to face the rest of the room, which, she noted with some satisfaction, looked to varying degrees uncomfortable, aroused, or uncomfortably aroused. Her feet were off the floor now, one braced against the side of the altar and one hanging free. For what was basically a possessed metal statue, it was surprisingly easy to sit on. Then again, the tentacles curling around her lower back and waist probably had something to do with that.

One tentacle swept its tip along Sanguine’s vulva, curling to collect the wetness there and bringing it up to Sanguine’s eyeline. “Do I need to?” Hermaeus asked, smug.

Sanguine wriggled around. “No such thing as too much lube,” she said. “You can do better than that.”

Tentacles heaved her up, and the one that had previously toyed with her slid into her cunt. Hermaeus fit as much of it in as he could, then just left it there.

“It’s a vagina, not a hat rack,” Sanguine grunted. “Aren’t you supposed to know everything?”

“Just because I know everything does not mean I must do what you wish with that knowledge.” He brought another tentacle up to Sanguine’s face, this one slightly smaller than her wrist. She figured she might as well let him off the hook, leaned forward, and licked at it.

To his credit, Hermaeus knew how to take a cue. He started to explore her mouth, almost hesitantly at first, then with more curiosity and less regard for her comfort. She sucked on the tendril enthusiastically, swallowing as it neared the back of her throat.

After a moment, Mora said, “I’m not sure I understand the appeal.”

“Make it-” Sanguine tried to say, with very little success. Hermaeus pulled back to let her speak. “Make the end of it sensitive. Mortals have, what is it, the thing where they touch things-”

“A nervous system?” Hermaeus suggested dryly.

“Yeah, sure, probably. Do one of those.”

One of the cultists gave a poorly disguised snort and immediately clapped his hand over his mouth. Both Princes looked at him.

“Like that,” Sanguine said, pointing at the man’s crotch.

“Eep,” said the cultist.

“Hmm,” said Hermaeus Mora.

“Hey,” Sanguine said, vaguely affronted. “An hour ago you thought this was stupid.”

“Now I am curious,” Hermaeus said.

“Do you really want another Prince showing up to the party?” The question came not from Sanguine, but from the older woman sitting on the floor, rapidly scribbling notes.

“She has a point,” Sanguine said, then turned her attention back to the other three cultists. “If you don’t wanna get fucked you can always leave.”

“The... outside is gone?” one of the cultists said, pointing at the doorway.

Sanguine frowned and twisted a little to give the tentacle-altar a look. “We’re still on Nirn,” she told the cultist. “Probably in the same place. It’s just dark.”

There was a brief silence. “I, um, is it okay if I just watch?” squeaked out the fourth cultist, the one who hadn’t spoken yet.

“Absolutelmmph,” Sanguine said cheerfully, before her mouth was occupied with a tentacle again.

“Swear to me,” Hermaeus said, dark and low. “Swear to serve me and no other.”

Sanguine rolled her eyes and made a “blah-blah-blah” motion with one hand before Hermaeus caught her wrist and held it behind her back.

“Yes,” said the first one abruptly, the one Sanguine had pointed to. “I want to - I want to know what’s-” He gestured, at a loss for words. “I want to know new things.”

A tentacle coiled at his feet, then rose up to curve around his waist gracefully. The tip flicked at the tie on his robe - it was the kind that closed in the front, not a shift - then undid it, letting the cloth fall to the ground. It made quick work of his underclothes, shoved all of it some ways away, and settled around his hips. The man swallowed hard but stood firm under the extra weight. He touched the tentacle lightly.

It slid between his legs, under his balls, and played with them a little before Hermaeus apparently decided he wasn’t interested and moved back up. The man whined a little, then looked embarrassed. Sanguine winked at him.

Hermaeus drew the tentacle along the tip of the man’s cock. His knees buckled slightly, and another tentacle came to help hold him up.

“Why is this so sensitive?” Hermaeus mused.

“I refuse to believe,” said the woman with the notes, “that you have never heard of the mammalian reproductive system before.”

A tentacle flicked in her direction. “Of course I have. This seems like a vulnerability. Why allow it?”

“I think Sanguine is trying to show you that,” the woman said, a bit archly.

“Map the nervous system, you say,” Hermaeus muttered. Sanguine tapped the tentacle in her mouth. “Yes, yes. There. Done. Now what?”

Sanguine hollowed her cheeks and licked a long, broad stripe down the underside.

The entire building rumbled. All of the tentacles on and around Sanguine spasmed, harder than the iron of the statue could take, and she let it break her collarbone rather than wreck the metal, moaning at the spike of pain. She hoped Hermaeus had thought to let go of the mortal first.

“Yes,” Hermaeus said roughly, so deep it sounded like the earth itself was speaking. He caught her chin and forced the tentacle into her mouth as far as it would go, fucking her throat brutally. It was a good thing Sanguine didn’t need to breathe, because she wasn’t getting to do much of it at the moment.

“Go in and out,” a mortal suggested, so at least one of them was fine.

The tentacle pulsed, which was probably not what the mortal had meant but was certainly fine by Sanguine, who worked her throat as much as she was able. Hermaeus squeezed again, and broke her femur in two places.

Sanguine projected her voice so she didn’t have to use her mouth. “I don’t just have a skeleton for fun, you know.”

“Don’t you?” said another mortal.

Sanguine paused. “Okay, fine. Could you do something more interesting than shove your dick in my mouth, then?”

“I don’t think it ejaculates,” said the woman with the notes.

Hermaeus tugged at Sanguine’s body until she was on her hands and knees on the altar. When she got the chance, she put her clavicle and femur back to normal. A smaller tentacle reached up and found her clitoris.

“I believe this is the analogous structure?”

Sanguine jerked her hips and said, “!!!!!!” which meant something along the lines of _You’re damn fucking right it is._

He set to circling it calmly, occasionally varying speed or direction or pressure. Sanguine thrashed against him, trying to make it abundantly clear that this was not nearly fast or hard enough. A miracle occurred and Hermaeus obliged her with enough force to rock her entire body forward.

She groaned and arched her back, only intermittently paying attention to the tentacle in her mouth.

“Daedra fuck me that’s hot,” one of the mortals said. Sanguine couldn’t see what happened next, but she heard some shuffling around, a whimper, and then the same mortal saying, “Fuck - I break easier than her - yes, ffffuck, Mora.”

The ground shuddered again. Sanguine smirked.

The tentacle inside her began to thrust slowly, and Sanguine moaned at finally getting some sensation against the sensitive flesh. Several thick limbs wrapped around her torso and Sanguine let them control her movement, fucking her cunt and mouth without any input from her in the matter. She narrowed her focus down to her own orgasm, chasing it, borrowed muscles shaking violently. She hit her peak with a muffled cry, and drew it out as long as she could, moaning at the waves of pleasure racking her pseudo-mortal body.

Hermaeus, who both wasn’t as practiced and had apparently forgotten that he wasn’t supposed to care, took another few moments to come as well. He coiled tightly around Sanguine, tighter than a mortal would have been able to bear, and came with a sound that wasn’t quite actual noise and left even Sanguine’s ears ringing.

The tentacles slid out of her slowly. Sanguine panted and caught her breath on her stomach on top of the altar. She turned her head to see how the mortals were faring, and was vaguely surprised to see they were all in one piece, the two men and one woman fucking each other and the tentacles without inhibition. Notes woman was still taking notes.

Sanguine hummed happily, watching them. Hermaeus was either considerate or, more likely, curious for more data points, and wrung the mortals’ orgasms from them in short order.

“Was it good for you too?” Sanguine drawled.

“You should not be here,” Hermaeus said, and unceremoniously dismissed Sanguine back to her own realm, destroying his mortal form in the process.

Sanguine made a face. “Well that was rude,” he muttered to himself, about to march right back into Nirn and steal some of those followers for himself, thank you very much, when he had a much better idea.

Grinning, he propped his legs up on nothing in particular and set about designing himself a tentacle god form. Really, he had no idea why he hadn’t stolen that idea far earlier.

**Author's Note:**

> Next up: a dragon. But not the way you're thinking.


End file.
